Truly
by ASolidSecond
Summary: Mitchell and Annie have more of a conversation at the end of episode 6 and the next day a visitor shakes things up. Finished 12/31/09!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is an alt. for the end of episode six; it takes place while Nina and George continue their discussion and after Mitchell has finished his cereal.**

Mitchell excused himself from the table; the conversation had turned distant and the cereal bowl was empty. Annie had been fiddling with her latest cup of tea for a few minutes and she didn't seem to be noticing much. Next to her the stirring spoon ticked like a clock pendulum, but she didn't notice that either.

He walked up the stairs and paused a moment by George's room, he could hear the faintest muffled sounds of the conversation going on inside. They would be alright, he decided, until the morning at least. He turned to his room and went without bothering to turn on the light. He preferred it this way, his eyes needed to rest after the daylight anyways.

Somewhere in the room came a creak, the noise his rickety old bed made when he got in it each night. By instinct he backed up flat against the wall.

"Who's there?" He tried to make his voice as even as possible as he groped for the light switch. His fingers had it and he flicked the switch. "Annie?"

His voice startled her, but not before he could take in that she had been sitting the same way she had been before; her hand was even curved around a tea cup that was no longer there.

"Mitchell?" She looked at her surroundings confusedly. "What am I…. How did I? I'm so sorry Mitchell. I thought I was getting control of this whole popping around when least expected thing." She stood to leave, looking embarrassed, flushed almost; that is if a ghost could look flushed.

"It's okay Annie." He held out a hand towards her, signaling for her to sit back down. "Ya just scared the living daylights out of me."

She laughed, "Shouldn't it be the dead daylight out of you?" She laughed at her own joke. Mitchell just stared; sometimes the jokes were truly horrible. Her laugh trailed off, "Sorry."

"Why'd ya come up here? Is everything alright?"

"I didn't do it on purpose. I was just thinking… feeling a bit lonely and then suddenly, poof!"

"Thinkin' more about Owen?" He controlled himself not to add 'that wanker' to the end of his sentence.

"No, actually." She smiled sincerely at the realization. "Just trying to figure this whole thing out. What is going to happen to George and Nina; to the rest of us… you know…"

She trailed off and began picking at some fuzz on his quilt. Mitchell tried to repress a smile at another one of her silly little eccentricities. It did not take long for him to notice the shining streak of tears on her cheek. Quickly he sat down next to her, putting a hand to hers.

"What is it? You can tell me."

"I just want…" she began between sobs. "I just wanted George to be alright. Of all of us he had a chance, to be almost normal. He had the chance to do all of those things that people do when they're alive. He could have had that with Nina, if this all hadn't happened. Now what will happen to him?"

"I don't know Annie," he said after a few moments of silence. "But I can hope that Nina will take in stride. They seemed to have something solid there for awhile, perhaps it was love. Perhaps it is love. We can only wait and see. I don't believe that it was fear or fascination that kept Nina looking through that window. Love, real love, can over come many things"

"Love?" She nearly spat the word out as she pulled away and began to pace the small room. "Can you actually say after all of this that you can believe that there's any true power of love? You of all people have seen what idiots love makes people, the horrible things it makes us do?"

One of Mitchell's ashtrays flew across the room and into the wall opposite. Annie shrank back and immediately began to pick up the pieces.

"I'm sorry, Mitchell," she stuttered. "I hope that wasn't sentimental."

"It was only from Studio 54."

Annie stopped and stared wide eyed.

Mitchell cracked a wide smile, "I'm only joshin' you. I swiped it from the pub last week."

Annie let out a breath and continued to pick up the smashed ashtray when she felt his hand on hers. He led her back to her spot on the edge of his bed and put his hand to her cheek, drawing her eyes to his.

"You're right Annie," he said softly. "Love makes people do incredibly stupid things and I don't blame you for only being able to see that right now. You have every right to believe that. But I do still believe; I still want to believe that there is some good out there."

Her eyes remained cold, but he would not let her look away.

"How many times in your life have you been in and out of love Mitchell? How can you possibly say love does anything good?"

There was a long pause while Mitchell mulled over what to say; he wouldn't meet Annie's demanding stare and replied while looking over her shoulder.

"You're right Annie, I've loved a lot of people in my life and that is not a crime. That, I think, is something that has kept me a little bit human. Even after all those horrible things I have done, I could still care about, love someone. But, I have to believe that it is a good thing, or else what's the point?"

Annie was crying again in earnest. "But what is the point, Mitchell? What is the point is we're just going to hurt them?"

He pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her and let the shiver of her coldness run down his spin.

"I don't know Annie." She sobbed into his shoulder and he petted her hair; it felt like frozen silk he thought for a moment. "But I do know that hurting those you care about isn't something only we do; that is something human too. It is something that happens to everyone, living, dead or not quite either. I could have hurt you and George because of my stupid actions over the last few days, but you took me back. You let me come home."

Annie pushed herself away from him and stared him down.

"Of course we did you twat! We…" She paused.

Mitchell raised him eyebrows, very pleased. "Go on, darlin'."

"Of course we did… we love you."

He cupped her face in his hands and brought their faces close to each others. "Exactly."

Annie smiled softly, but then her brow furrowed again.

"Yes?" Mitchell asked softly, not moving.

"Why is it different?" Annie asked. "What is it different with you?"

"Why is what different?"

Neither of them moved.

"Touching, feeling." Annie moved quickly away and was on her feet, smiling nervously. "Other people have touched me, but it's not the same as when you do it. When George touches me it is usually as if I know what the touch should feel like and that's what I feel. But with you I actually can feel things. Why do you think that is?"

Mitchell smiled back, his eyes darting around the room.

"I dunno, Annie. I thought about that a little a couple weeks ago. After I … you know…" Annie waved the words away; she knew they were thinking of that awkward little moment after Tully left. "Anyways, I thought that maybe it's because I'm not quite alive and you're not quite dead. We actually have a little more common ground than the others we meet."

She looked pensive as she continued to pace around with this new thought. Mitchell just watched her, reclining slightly with his arms behind his back and smiled. She went on like this for a few minutes before realizing what she was doing and that Mitchell was just sitting there, staring. She stopped in mid-stride.

"Sorry, Mitchell, I should probably go and let you rest, shouldn't I?"

Mitchell just shrugged as Annie backed up towards the door. He got to his feet to escort her out, but she turned as she reached for the door handled. They were almost nose to nose.

"Do you think it's possible for someone like us to be in love again, I mean really, truly, deeply in love?"

"No."

She looked at him quizzically. "No? But why not?"

"Don't get angry with me, Annie. I believe we can love a lot of people, but there a certain kind that only comes around once. Even if you live forever."

"But what about," she trailed off.

"What about you?" He finished for her. "Annie, I know you loved Owen, a lot. But I think he's made it clear that he never cared one iota about you. Do you honestly think that real, true love could only be one-sided?"

She smiled weakly and Mitchell knew this wouldn't be the last time he would tell her this. He pulled her close again.

"You have a great capacity for love, Annie. I believe there's more you have to give."

She stayed for a moment, but then pulled away and opened the door. She spoke without turning back to him this time.

"Have you ever been really, truly in love Mitchell?"

"Good night, Annie."

He closed the door and she stood in the hallway for awhile. She was walking towards the stairs when she heard the door open again, slowly. She didn't turn back.

"No, Annie, no I haven't."

The door closed again and the air became still. Annie took a deep breath and smiled despite of herself and began down the stairs; perhaps tonight she'd finally get to cleaning behind that fridge.

**A/N: Hey everyone thanks for reading my little story! I'd love it if you left a message! It could be anything from "Thanks for the quick read" or a list of why Mitchell is sexy or even you could go on and on about your love for tea, even if you can't drink it or why whenever you want a cup of tea there seem to be no clean cups! just a little note would make my day!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay so "Truly" got such a great response, and response for more that story line I thought I'd give you more. Just a little bit more Annie/Mitchell, with a fun new character to add to the drama. Not really trying to change the story line, just think of it as an extra episode. Enjoy!  
**

Annie had had it nearly up to there. They were boys and they were foul, disgusting creatures. After the last months 'interesting goings on' as she had taken to calling it; well, George just popped in for a change of clothes and a fresh cup of tea most days and Mitchell had taken to skulking around the house avoid them as much as possible. She gave him credit; the fact that he could effectively dodge someone who could teleport almost at will was quite a feat considering the flat was rather small. She could tell where he'd been recently by the trail of filled ashtrays loitering about.

Annie had spent the better part of that morning unclogging the bathtub drain – again, swearing copiously. In fact, she wondered why she was doing it in the first place as she pulled what could have been a fourth flat mate from the drain; she hadn't taken a shower in over a year, this obviously wasn't her doing at all. She let out a yell and pounded her feet on the floor.

"Stupid boys!"

The bathroom door open and in popped George's head.

"Annie? Are you alright?" She glared at him.

"Am I alright? You must really be daft George." She got to her feet and approached him, hairball still in her hand. "I just spent the last half hour dislodging this from the drain and you ask me if I'm alright?

He tried to stutter a response as she thrust it in his face.

"Seriously, are you molting or something? Do you realize how disgusting this is?"

"I – well – I …" George fumbled around with this words; backing up towards the stairs. "… and you know – I"

Steps sounded up the staircase.

"Blimey, what's got in to you two? I could hear you outside." George backed right up into Mitchell, still fumbling, but obviously trying to get Mitchell into a position as a human (well kind of human) shield in case Annie went poltergeist.

"Now, Annie what - " Mitchell began, gloved hands held out as an additional buffer. Annie couldn't help but notice in the moment just how uncomfortable he looked and at this particular moment she really didn't care. She shoved the still dripping wad of hair and dirt under his nose. His face dropped at the sight of it.

"That … is … disgusting."

"I know! But, it's yours, both of yours, but who just spent an hour getting it out of the drain?"

"Wait a moment, you just said it was a half hour," George interrupted, wagging a finger at her.

Mitchell, in a moment of quick thinking, stepped further between them while hissing over his shoulder. "I don't think that's an important detail you twat."

"Yeah you twat," Annie chimed in.

"Hey!" George ducked under Mitchell's arm and faced both of them, rearranging his glasses. "I think that using that kind of language is uncalled for this given situation. Now if we can all just take a deep… calming…"

"I don't breathe you idiot!"

George giggled nervously, trying to squeak out a response. "Right… well I – it's just that I …. Meant… well …. You know…. Mitchell?"

"You're on your own here mate," he said with his usual smirk catching George's eye for a moment. There was a silent count and both boys bolted in opposite directions, fall over each other as Mitchell made for his bedroom and George practically half fell and half leapt down the stairs. Both the bedroom and front doors opened and slammed shut in unison.

"Cowards," Annie yelled. "Damned bloody cowards!"

And she threw the wad at Mitchell's door where it hit with a squelching thud.

The doorbell sounded from downstairs and fierce rapping sounded on the door. Annie stalked downstairs.

"I swear to God and all things holy George, if you've forgotten your keys one more time I'm going to surgically attach them to you hands!"

She didn't even have to reach the door handle; it was an easy poltergeist move to open closed doors. But George wasn't on the stoop. Annie stuck her head out of the doorway.

"Who's ever there I'm not in the mood to be tricked today!"

A staccato laugh came from behind her. Annie spun on her toes. Leaning back against the opposite wall was a rather short girl with shaggy short dishwater blond hair and smudged make up.

Annie didn't speak immediately, but kept her eyes on the girl and approached her cautiously. The girl kept her eyes on the open doorway until Annie was with in a foot of her. The girl turned her head suddenly and stared Annie straight in the eyes.

"Boo!"

The girl erupted into the same high staccato laugh again as Annie just stood puzzled.

"Oh my god! You should've seen your face!" The girl had a decidedly awful American accent.

"You can see me?"

"Of course I can see you. What are you stupid? I mean I am dead!" The girl ran a hand with chipped bright blue nail polish through her hair.

"You are?"

The girl looked back seriously, "Are you…like... you know? Riding the short bus to school?"

"Excuse me? I'm … I mean…" This girl was having a strange effect on Annie's nerves.

"Excuse me," said a voice from behind them in the stair well. "Who are you?"

The girl backed up a good foot when Mitchell came around the corner, arms folded and with a scowl on his face. Her eyes became even wider than before as they flicked back and forth from Mitchell to Annie.

"Holy f-in' hannah. I thought they were just kidding, but I had to see it for myself."

"One more time," Mitchell said coolly. "Who are you?"

**Please put down that cup of tea and respond! More to come - if you review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Another chapter for you - **

"I'm Juliene Thomas, permanent exchange student and you must be the vampire everyone is talking about."

"Whoa, wait a moment, Julie-"

"Not Julie, JULIENE, like Jolene, but better."

Mitchell tried to let her tone just roll off his back but it showed as twitch. "Okay, fine. Whatever. How do you know me and-" he dropped the volume of his voice quickly, "and what I am?"

Juliene scoffed and tossed her short hair and shot him a derisive look. "You mean other than the fact that you're just a bottle of glitter away from being a Cullen? Duh blood boy! Word gets around our social circle pretty fast, especially when one of us is in interesting circumstances and one of us shacking up with one of you is strange enough, but throw in the Wolfman-pansy and well you're one bearded lady away from a freak show."

"Okay well the show's over for today. So either tell me why you're here or leave."

Juliene stared right back at Mitchell and Annie, standing off the side, couldn't help but wondering if she was moments away from witnessing some kind of Old West showdown. Juliene moved first, shrugging her shoulders and taking a few steps away from Mitchell.

"Whatever, I really came to see her. So you can just go back to hanging from the ceiling or whatever it is your kind does."

"Whatever," Mitchell mimicked, brushing past the two of them grabbing his coat and glasses. He turned in the doorway. "Annie, I'll be back … later." He gave the door a firm slam on the way out. Annie couldn't help but feel her stomach drop a little. Given all the recent events, most of which was still be spoken about in hushed tones behind doors and very little of it to Annie, had her worried. She felt like a mother sending her children off every morning, wondering if they'd make home and she hated to see either of them leave angry. This was still their safe-haven, at least for now.

"Um," Annie stumbled, "Sorry for that… my - they, Mitchell and George I mean. They don't socialize much."

They stood staring at each other a while. Juliene rocked back and forth in her hot pink Converse sneakers, hands stuck in the pockets of her low slung baggy jeans. The rest of her was covered in zip-hoody who's choices of colors were a little too matchy-matchy to have been picked by anything except a committee, Annie looked closely and could see "Centerville Lions" embroidery half picked away near one of the shoulders. What was showing of her wrists were covered in bracelets; plastic jelly ones in obnoxious colors, some shiny metal bangles and a few embroidery thread friendship bracelets. Annie couldn't help but wonder about those, she used to make those same kinds of bracelets for her friends during the summer holidays; the bracelets were in fairly new shape and must have been given to Juliene not too long before –

"So you're," Annie started, tugging at her sweater, still unsure of the proper etiquette surround the clarification of ones death, "you know?"

"Dead." Juliene answered simply. "Yup dead as the old doornail or whatever it is you people say."

"But how – I'm you're American right?"

"Okay you're obviously new to this so here it is. Yep, you win a point, I'm American, and yes, I died over here. It was, like, a couple of years ago I think. I was over here on a school trip. We didn't have good foreign language classes, so our senior trip was to somewhere where they spoke English. We go to come over for two weeks during Christmas break because it was cheaper too. That was the problem though, ice on the wings of the plane when we were taking off to go home. I don't think we were up in the air for more than a few minutes. All I remember is thinking that there was so much more I had wanted to see. The next thing I know I'm standing on the side of runway watching the paramedics taking away my friends." Juliene paused for a moment and then shrugged it off. "So what about you? I hear that you have a good one."

"A good what?"

"A good death of course! What else?"

"I lived with a rutting bastard of a fiancé who pushed me down the stairs," Annie spat out as quickly as she could.

Juliene looked decidedly disappointed with Annie's retelling.

"Look, you're going to have to work on that story. Trust me you get farther with the London ghosts is you have a good story. I mean I met one of Jack the Rippers victims a few years ago, now that was a good story, she pretty much runs Whitechapel by now. Claims she knows who he was, but she wouldn't tell me."

"You're kidding."

"Nope, London's full cool ghosts. Though my advice is to stay away from the Tower too crowded, that Anne Boleyn chick and that Queen what's-her-name … Catherine have, like, daily rows up there and it's not pretty."

"So what, you're like Gilbert? Just hanging around because you like it here?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I mean it's a lot better than Centerville ever was and I figure I 'll see my door once I've seen everything I wanted to see and trust me, growing up in a little hick town like that with access to dish-network travel channels, I have a lot I want to see."

Annie felt a little uneasy, considering what had taken place only a few days weeks earlier. "Well, I hear the doors don't always come when you expect them to."

Juliene gave Annie a wry smile. "So I hear."

**Oh what is my annoying little American teenager up to? I bet she doesn't even like tea. Stayed tuned!**


	4. Chapter 4

Annie took a few steps closer to the girl, "Okay what do you know? What have you heard and why are you here?"

"Oh come on sister, you don't get to make that big of a row with you're pet dog and your Edward wannabe with out catching someone's attention and word travels pretty quickly. We don't like to mix with those kinds of things very much, but word does travel and then it gets around that you gave up your door to help those two freaks. Well, let's just say you should be thanking your dead stars that there are a lot of ghosts contained by their walls or else you'd have quite a lot of angry poltergeists marching down your little street. Luckily, for the time being, they've just sent me to try to talk some sense into you."

"Hold up, what the hell are you going on about?" Annie was beyond flustered by now. "I did what I did to help my friends; they are any more freaks than me or you for that matter."

Juliene was now pacing around the front room, she stopped again faced Annie. "You and me are nothing like them. We are humans that are no longer living, but we are still humans just not ones that are still breathing. The only thing that happened to us was natural no matter the story. They are freaks; abominations of human beings. We are the things that send shivers up the spines of the livings, but they are what haunt their dreams. They are the monsters!"

At that a coffee cup sped across the room, flying through Juliene and crashing into the wall, its contents dripping down the wall.

"Impressive," Juliene said, not taking her eyes off of Annie.

"I think you need to go now."

"Oh, really? Do you need to get supper on the table for the monster menfolk? Do you actually enjoy being kept her as their pet?"

"I am not being kept here." Annie was the one pacing now, and things around the house were starting to rattle.

"They might have you fooled now, but eventually they'll show their true colors. You think that they're actually staying here for you? Because they care about you?" Juliene spat out each phrase. "They only care about themselves, trying to eek out a little humanity from the closest thing to a real human they can get! And why? Because they they think they can't hurt you? Because you can't leave? You're being used!"

She was yelling; she was to upset to yell. "You need to leave."

"Not until you see what's going on here -"

At that a noise came from the doorway, neither girl could say how long it had been open. Mitchell was standing inside it, with a rather confused looking George peaking over his shoulder

"No," Mitchell said with a cool intonation that would send chills up anyone's spin. "She's right it's time for you to go."

They stared down each other until finally Juliene gave one of her shrugs and pushed passed them. Mitchell stepped expertly out of the way and in to the house, but George landed backside down on the pavement and scrabbled to the doorway with hurt pride. Juliene just stood outside the house, facing them. Mitchell grabbed George by the shoulder, wrenching him inside and slamming the door in one smooth movement.

George, nose only a few inches away from the now closed door, was the first to break the silence. "What was that all about? Annie?" He turned. Mitchell was just staring at the otherwise empty room.

George squeaked again, "Annie?"

**Please Read and Review, there's some nice Annie/Mitchell moments coming for those who Review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Here's another chapter for you!**

"Mitchell?" George eventually got the words out. "What was that all about?"

"That, my friend, was more trouble." Mitchell struck off up the stairs before George could stammer out another question.

George, left alone or at least what he thought was alone since Annie had apparently gone invisible, sat himself down on the couch. Head back and eyes staring at the ceiling he could help but wonder out loud.

"Trouble? Yeah … great… that's all we need is more trouble. We just got rid of Mitchell's vampire crony's, our landlord is in the nut house, my girlfriend seems to be playing a permanent game of phone tag and we've got angry teenage ghosts dropping by for tea. Why can't they just leave us be!"

He shut his eyes, but the noises of the house still permeated his head; just above him he could hear Mitchell pacing around his room with uneven steps and somewhere in the walls he thought he could hear Annie crying. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

George woke up in the early morning with a serious crick in his neck and curled up on the couch. He had fallen asleep watching the television sometime after that one late night show with the guy who wasn't really fun and the other late night show that should have been cancelled years ago. He looked around the room; it still looked like night time though the amazing miracle product infomercial had just ended, segwaying abruptly into an early morning news program.

"I never -" Mitchell began behind him, sending George flying from the couch and landing between it and the coffee table in an undignified pose. He continued anyways. "I never liked this program; the anchors always look too chipper for filming this live at five in the morning. No one is ever that chipper to be awake at five in the morning"

George pulled himself off the floor. "Yes, I know."

"Even vampires don't look that good at five in the morning."

"Well," George began adjust his glasses. "I suppose if they were vampires than we wouldn't have to worry about what they looked like because… well… they're vampires and…. they're on the telly and.."

"Is that supposed to be a joke?"

George cleared his throat, "Maybe … yes – I guess –I"

"I don't get it."

George sat back on the couch, "I didn't tell it right. Though speaking of which mate, you looked like hell warmed over or froze over. I don't know which would happen for a vam-"

"George?"

"Yeah?"

"It's too early for you to be making so many bad jokes."

"Heh, yeah you're probably right. But seriously, Mitchell, what's wrong?"

Mitchell was pacing around the room with a half full cup of tea and had rather large circles under each eye.

"I just couldn't sleep. Haven't slept a lot since… you know."

George made a small non-committal type noise; it had become an unspoken rule that incidents like what had happened the other week weren't subject for discussion.

A nice cup of tea would probably be nice though, George decided and moved into the kitchen. It was in a surprising state.

"Um, Mitchell?" George asked as he started to move about the unusually untidy kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"I take it that Annie hasn't… um… reappeared yet?"

Mitchell was now standing in the kitchen door way, "Not to me she hasn't."

"You think … I mean… I –just…"

"George spit it out already."

"She's okay right?"

Mitchell set his cup on top of the refrigerator and leaned against it slightly. "I hope so. I can't say I'm not surprised. I actually thought that she'd have more visitors like that yankee chick before this, but I don't think it's good timing for it at all. Annie's been through a lot recently."

George put down the dish he had set to scrubbing and placed his gloved, but soapy hands on his aproned hips. "What do you mean you expected this?"

"It's just," Mitchell started. "Okay, don't take this the wrong way, but you don't know this because you haven't been around long enough and well, lucky for you Annie was the first ghost you've met."

"What do you mean haven't been around long enough?"

"You haven't been, well, not human long enough to really experience this side of life, if you want to call it that."

"Oh and you have? And do you mean to say that you've met more…met people who were – are – have been…. More people like Annie?"

"I've experienced enough to know what I'm talking about right now and yes, I've met more ghosts and they're not all like Annie and Gilbert. Most of them would side with that Julie girl, though without as colorful of a vocabulary."

Mitchell looked at George, standing in the middle of the room with a rather frilly apron tied around his waste, bright blue scrubbing gloves on and a bit of bubbly suds hanging from the corner of his glasses and couldn't help but think that Annie would get such a kick out of this picture if only she were here and felt his stomach twist in a knot.

"There are a lot of ghosts out there that think themselves quite high and mighty on the old used to be human scale. They think they're entitled to their haunts and anything that resides or passes by them because they're special, because they're human being chosen to stay on earth. They see themselves as improved, blessed or just plain special. They can do whatever they want and there are no more consequences or repercussions. Most of them don't even like regular humans to be around them let alone non-humans."

"Wait a minute." George stopped him. "What do you mean non-human? You mean, like cats and things that scurry about right?"

"I wish. Humans register on their scale slightly below them, because they can't deny the fact that that is what they once were, but general they abhor anything, anyone who still is human, but different and that's the category you and I fall into my friend. We're human still on the outside, but we've changed and mutated to the point where we can do some of the things that ghosts can do. We live longer, are stronger and can even be invisible to a point and they hate use for that. They don't see us as kindred spirits, as I think Annie did or does; we're interlopers on their terrain. In fact people like you, my dear George, are higher on the scale than my kind because for the most part you get to seem human for a good portion of your time. Usually the last thing my kind want is a ghost on the premises; they have a tendency to cause undue trouble and draw unwanted attention to us just to drive us away."

Mitchell could see this was trouble George in the way he was becoming uneasy on his feet.

"But we're not…. We're just trying to… Annie doesn't think of us that way … right?" George asked, his voice breaking a little.

"I hope – no, George," Mitchell changed course as he saw the look in his nervous friends eyes. "No, I think Annie thinks much better of us. But we have to realize that most of Annie's type of people think we're, well…"

Mitchell stepped away from the refrigerator to put a hand on George's shoulder when they both heard it; a voice ripping through the house as the refrigerator tipped over and crashed to the ground where Mitchell had been only moments before.

"YOU'RE MONSTERS!"

The voice was unmistakable. It was Annie.

**A/N: Wait what? Oh goodness, what have I done? What's going on? Where's Annie, does she really hate them, how could I call this Annie/Mitchell romantic goodness... Well, I guess you'll just have to wait for the next chapter.**


	6. Chapter 6

George had been wrong, it had been a relatively easy night, it was a rough morning and he had a sinking feeling that it was only going to get worse. Both he and Mitchell had escaped in the early afternoon for work; though both wondered what kind of state the flat would be in when they returned.

Luckily the fridge had been the biggest thing Annie had managed to go poltergeist on and that was still lying on it's side in the kitchen. Not long after coffee cups and begun to zoon around the kitchen and the shelves with all the cook wear began to rattle violently. The television and stereo had gone completely haywire and kept blasting the chorus of "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band" over and over again. They had triumphed over the overflowing sink in the upstairs bathroom only by Mitchell's knowledge of how to shut off the water to the entire house.

So here they were, at work, both exhausted, their nerves rattled and a little in need of a shower. Both had gone their separate ways to complete their rounds without saying much, for what was there to say? Neither of them knew how to deal with an angry, poltergeist-ing roommate who wouldn't even make her self visible.

Neither felt much like recounting their day of work on the walk home from the bus stop. The lack of sleep and two pots of coffee George had consumed over his shift had only added to his general jitteriness causing him to walk straight into a gurney caring a very agitated appendicitis patient, which then caused him to get a verbal lashing from Nina who was standing near by. It hadn't helped that he responded in a less than civil manner towards her as he was already agitated himself that this was the most she had spoken to him in days. It was not until she had stormed away down the hall that he realized he probably hadn't helped his case. Add to that the number of times he had dropped the fresh linens and that unfortunate incident while changing the bed pans and it had already been a bad day before lunch time.

Mitchell on the other hand had had a much less eventful day. It was one of the skills he had learned over his century of life, to become all but invisible when it suited him. For the most part he had gotten through the day without incident, most people had the good sense to avoid him when he was like this and it was his fault that those children in the children's ward had gotten so scared when he tried to feign a smile while delivering linens.

Truth be told, this was bothering him more than he wanted George to know because, well, for starters George had enough on his mind right now and two, he didn't think George would really understand. He felt bad enough, horrible in fact, knowing that Annie had given up her door in order to save him and he never wanted to do anything to make her regret that. She had been through so much because of them and she had come so far since her death; he only wanted to see her happy now, she deserved that and he wasn't going to give up that easily.

He sped up, striding with a new determination towards his front door, but as he reached for the handle he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Mitchell, wait," George said and Mitchell could hear that defeated tone in his voice. "We need a plan before we go in there."

"Why?"

"Well perhaps because there's a pissed off ghost capable of moving large pieces of furniture in there and I don't particularly enjoy the feeling of my bones breaking and knitting back together. Anyways you can hear her in there still banging around I don't think she's calmed down at all."

He had a point; anyone could have heard the banging around in the flat from on the street.

Mitchell sat down on the stoop, "Okay so what's your plan Napoleon?"

"What? Well, I don't know – maybe… possibly the best…I don't know," George stammered. "You're the one with all the ghost experience I thought you'd know how to deal with this. How did you deal with angry ghosts before? Do you like, I don't know, make a sacrifice or burn sage?"

"You leave."

George was quiet; he hadn't been expecting that answer. "Yeah… but, we just can't… well, maybe. Mitchell, maybe we should. Maybe we should just leave."

In less than half the time it took George to blink Mitchell had him by the front of his scrubs and George couldn't help but give a noise that sounded more like a hurt dog than he'd care to admit.

Mitchell was snarling in his face, "We are not just going to give up. Is that what you want? To be run from place to place? To let people like that kid turn us against each other with the wave of a hand. Well, George I'm tired of running and hiding. We've said it before and we're going to stick to it. This is our home and I'm not going to let them take it from us, no matter what Annie decides to throw at us. I don't care how long it takes, but I'm going in there and I'm not coming back out until I've got her back!"

He realized George's shirt and dropped him the few inches above the ground that he had lifted him; George fell back a few steps and took a moment to fix his glasses.

"So," Mitchell said with a firm determination. "You're either with me or you've let them win. What is it going to be?"

George looked as if he was going to run, and to be honest it was the first thing that crossed his mind, but he had a way of surprising Mitchell when he least expected it. George straightened himself up and tugged his shirt back down and said in his most unconvincing confident voice, "Bring it."

Mitchell burst into the first genuine smile that George had seen in a long time.

"I mean," George continued. "I survived my sister going through puberty and you survived World War I … kind of …So how bad can this be?"

Mitchell just stared back, an incredulously looked plastered on his face, though he couldn't deny how good it felt to have George on his side.

"Okay," Mitchell finally got out, reaching for the door knob. "Well here it goes. Three, two, one."

Mitchell swung the door upon and they both stepped in, metaphorical guns blazing, ready to wage war if necessary. They didn't have to go far.

Annie was standing in the front room, back to them.

"Now listen here Annie," George began stepping from behind Mitchell.

She swung around to face them, her face was livid and George stepped back behind Mitchell and eked out the rest, "We've got to talk."

"Oh you bet we do," Annie replied. "What the hell happened here?"

**A/N: Hope you're enjoying all the twists and turns, I'm sure having fun writing them! Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

_"Oh you better believe it," Annie replied. "What the hell happened here?"_

If it had been possible, Mitchell felt as if he could have keeled over dead right there on the spot as soon as he had seen that look on Annie's face as she spoke.

She repeated herself as Mitchell and George well just standing there slack jawed, "What the hell happened here?"

For once Mitchell seemed to be the one stumbling over his words, "Well, we…. I just… then …"

"You've been trying to destroy the house and get us to leave for the last twenty four hours," George spat out, ducking behind Mitchell's should as soon as he had spoken, his eyes darting around looking for tea cups on a collision course with his head.

The flat, however, was eerily calm. In this calm the place looked like it had been ransacked by home invaders. The curtains were hanging by one corner and there was a mosaic of broken dishes on the floor. It appeared that one of their mattresses had gotten lodged in the stairwell and greeting them behind Annie on the wall was written "Go Away Freaks!!!" in bright lime green spray paint, along with some crude pictographic representations of parts of anatomy and what the artist advise should be done with them.

"Oh come on Annie," Mitchell finally got out as he saw the new artistic addition to the wallpaper. "Now that's really mature. Don't you remember how long it took to get your last graffiti off the walls?"

"Now wait a minute," Annie started at him, waving a finger in his face. "You're not going to pin this all on me you … you… you…"

"What Annie?" Mitchell reached out and grabbed at her wrist, it was surprisingly solid and the chill of the contact sent a shiver up his spin. "What do you want to call us? Mutants? Monsters? Half-Breeds?" He spun her around, as he did she became less solid and her wrist slipped through his grasp, but she was facing the graffiti-ed wall and he spoke into her ear. "How about freaks? Go ahead try your worst; we've probably heard it all if we haven't called ourselves it already."

She spun on him angrily, "Mitchell, what the -"

She was angry, but they were angrier. George took up the volley this time, his voice straining over his words.

"Is this really what you think now Annie? You're just going to let someone come in a change your mind in a moment after all we've been through together! I thought you were different and I believed you when you told me that I was still good – that I was still a person."

"George," Annie tried to interrupt.

"No! For once I'm going to speak my mind and I'm not going to stop until you've heard it all."

Mitchell moved back to glare at them, arms folded, and give George his due spotlight.

"But George-"

"No," he squeaked. "I thought you were bigger than that! I thought that after we survived Tully, and Lauren and Herrick that we were something new, something better. I thought that together the three of us had a chance at being something better, as long as we stuck by each other. But if this is what you've decided than-"

"George shut up!" Annie screamed at the top of her lungs while stamping her feet. Mitchell sprang to George's side expecting George to shrink back, but the boy was full of surprises today.

"No! I'm not going to do that. You can throw all the plates and coffee cups at my head and you can chuck all iceboxes at Mitchell you want, but we're not leaving! I don't care what your little ghost crony's try to convince you of and I don't care how many times you trash-"

"George I didn't do this!"

"- trash the flat and…. I … wait – What do you mean? Of course you did this? Who else can move that refrigerator and send cups flying across a room with out being visible!"

"Now Annie," Mitchell started. "We will forgive you, but don't lie to - "

"Mitchell, I am not lying. I haven't even been here since last night."

George had an accusing finger pointing at her as he looked back and forth between her and Mitchell as they shot daggers at each other, until he spoke, "Wait – what?"

Now everyone looked confused.

**A/N: Sorry for a short chapter, but I do love a bit of a cliffhanger. Are you confused? Are you angry? Are you hungry? Let me know what you're thinking and review, it _Truly_ makes my day to hear someone enjoyed my little bit of scribblings.**


	8. Chapter 8

_Now everyone looked confused._

"Well, then where've you been then?" George finally managed.

"I went to see some other... you know… dead people. I wanted to know if what that American chick said was true."

"And," Mitchell asked quietly, "what did you find out?"

Annie glanced at him, but couldn't make out the look on his face.

"I found out that what she said is … well … true." At this George began to tremble and all the muscles in Mitchell's body tensed. "No, no, no. Boys, don't jump to conclusions. Yes, I went and met more people like me and yes, a lot of them think like Juliene and yes, a lot of them were hostile to the idea of our arrangement. I needed to find out on my own what was right and wrong. I'm tired of taking everything everyone gave me for face value. I needed to know who was using me."

"And you thought-" George barked out; Annie put a hand up to stop him.

"I don't expect you," she looked at Mitchell. "Either of you to really understand right now, but I hope you can in time. It's not that I don't trust you, but I just had to know for myself."

"Okay, okay…. Annie we believe you… we'll forgive you just stop throughing things around the house."

Annie looked as shocked as George looked confused. "Wait a minute I thought you guys did this, because I definitely did not do this." She looked into Mitchell and George's face. "You guys didn't do this." They shook their heads fervently. "Then what-"

George looked as if he was about to speak when the entire flat gave a shudder. What was left of anything on the walls plummeted to the floor and once again "Sgt. Pepper's" started up on the radio; just the chorus. The mattress lodge in the stairwell shot out and ricocheted off the wall as they heard Annies voice.

"GET OUT FREAKS"

Annie stood with her hands up. "That definitely was not me!"

"Oh my god!" The brass American accent echoed through the walls before Juliene appeared before them. "Now I see why you're all here! So you'll have a collective IQ higher than four!"

"You!" They are shouted in unison.

"Me! Yeah… duh… of course it was me! I-mean-come-on-"

"Wait a minute you little American twat," Annie surprised herself when she spoke. "Why have you been trying to destroy our home?"

"I, little miss prissy pants, have been trying to help you! I figured it'd be more the better if you came back from your little vision quest and these two wankers had already packed up and left. So yeah I did a little poltergeist action to try and make them crap themselves and run."

"And the voice?" George squeaked.

"Speech and Debate Regional Champion two years running."

"Wait a minute," Annie interrupted. "Why did you think I'd want them gone?"

"Why shouldn't you they're freaks. They're monsters! They shouldn't even be alive let alone playing house in a flat in Bristol and making you're their slave! Is this how you're going to spend your after-life? Cleaning up after glitter boy here and taking the dog for walkies?"

At this both Mitchell and George lunged toward Juliene, but Annie put out an arm to stop them. "No boys, this is my fight."

Juliene could only laugh at them, "I'm incorporeal you morons!"

Annie approached her with a cool determination on her face that made the girl trip over her high topped feet.

"You are going to leave and never come back."

"Wait a sec, you're going to choose this. You're going to choose them!"

The house started to tremble again.

"This time around, I get to choose my life," Annie put her hands out toward the girl who responded with a quizzical look on her face. Just as soon as it started the trembling stopped, the radio stopped playing and Juliene looked more confused as she tried to move, but found herself rooted to the spot. "And I'm choosing this."

Now Juliene looked worried, she was moving less and less, though the look on her face told them she was trying.

"You're making a big mistake! You're going to regret this, they'll only-"

Juliene's voice stopped mid-sentence though her mouth kept moving.

"No I won't," Annie sayed calmly. "P.S. Catherine says hello."

And then she was gone.

"A-a-annie? Did –did you just…. Kill a ghost?"

**A/N: Oh it's almost done, two more chapters to go with a good promise of all that Annie/Mitchell stuff I've been promising. So read, relax, and review while you have a nice cup of tea.... that is if you can find a cup that hasn't been smashed to pieces by a teenaged poltergeist.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry to keep you waiting! Holidays got in the way! Enjoy!**

"A-a-annie? Did – did you just … kill a ghost?"

"George?"

George was growing increasingly nervous, "Yeah, Annie."

"Are you daft?"

George tried to stutter out a response, but it was Mitchell who answered. "No, George, she didn't kill a ghost. She just made it so that that kid couldn't be here anymore. Right, Annie?"

Annie looked particularly proud and was swaying slightly, like a little kid with a good secret to tell.

"Yup."

"And where did you happen to pick up that little trick? I don't believe it comes in the "Handbook for the Newly Dead"."

"And where the heck have you been," George had regained his voice, "while we've been dealing with Hurricane American Tourist?"

"I've been in London. More specifically the-"

Mitchell interrupted, "You went to the Tower didn't you?"

"Yup! I made it all the way; I guess I was super determined to get all the way there. Listen, guys, I had too. I know you might not get it. But I've been so worked up and frustrated with all that's happened in the last week or so I just had to get the answers for myself. I let myself be drug around like one of those little yippy dogs you put in purses while I was alive and I wasn't going to let it happen while I was dead, especially," she looked quickly to Mitchell and back again. "Especially, if I don't know how long I'm going to be here anymore, even if that meant learning something about you two that I wouldn't want to know.

And she was right… to an extent. There were a lot of people, err ghosts… ghost-people there that weren't happy with me, but it wasn't like what she said. At least not according to Catherine and well, I'm more apt to believe her than Anne with the whole head throwing thing-"

"Wait just a minute," George interrupted, yet again. "Catherine? Anne? Do you mean you met-"

"The rival Queens of good ol' 'enry the VIII? You betcha; really nice lady Catherine. Gave me a good spot of advice and showed me a few tricks."

"Like how to disappear a ghost?"

"Yes George like how to disappear a ghost. She told me that if I was haunting the place where I died I had a certain amount of power over it. I could control what went on and who hung around, especially other ghosts. I guess that's why Anne throws so many temper tantrums, doesn't like that she can't control the Tower – too many people have died there so it's become a kind of ghost commune. But anyways she said that if Juliene turned out to be too much of a bother I could just give the ol' heave ho. I guess the Tower Ghosts gave Juliene the boot at one point too. It's a pretty good trick."

"So," George looked concerned. "So, could it work on us. You know – could you keep us from here?"

Annie's face dropped and George gulped audibly and started to shake. At last she broke into a smile again. "Naw. I mean I could give you guys bloody hell, but no I can't do the same thing to you that I can to them so no worries."

"Worries? Who said we were ever worried?" George stammered. "Were we ever worried – I don't think we were ever-"

Annie put her hand out to stop him and he shivered at the reminder of his presence. "George it's okay. I'm back. Everything's going to be fine."

She almost regretted saying this; the look on Georges face was a mix of guarded elation and relief. Annie hoped she hadn't bit of more than she could chew.

"Right," he said with a smile. "Well if that's all said and done, I'm going to grab a broom – looks like another trip the shops is in order." He walked toward the cupboard mumbling something about buying plastic cups leaving Mitchell and Annie in the hall.

"Mitchell I just-"

George was back in a flash as Mitchell answered, "Yes?"

She smiled and fidgeted, "Oh – um – I'll take the kitchen.

**A/N: Mitchell/Annie coming up next in the finally Chapter! Please Review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**I stayed up all night but its finally done! I hope you enjoy.**

It was hours before the flat began to look livable again. Everyone had taken a separate section for their own and for this Annie was glad the boys were leaving her alone to her thoughts in the kitchen; only popping in for another slice of pizza, of which the box was laid out on the still overturned fridge. She smiled, the pizza boy seemed to be getting used to her barrage of questions every time he dropped off a pie. Mitchell had stayed upstairs while George had taken to the living room sorting out damaged cd's and dvd's. She had even caught him trying to repair a pillow with a roll of duct tape which had brought a smile to her face though it was nothing compared to sight of George and Mitchell both going berserk on a Beatles cd.

Around two or three in the morning George had finally retired. Mitchell was pacing around upstairs and Annie absently wondered what was still on his mind as she contemplated the refrigerator that was still lying on its side.

"That is the cleanest underside of an ice box I've ever seen," said Mitchell from the doorway. Annie couldn't help but smile even though he'd thrown her off by appearing out of nowhere like that; she was rather proud of it. "Here let me help you."

In a few moments the refrigerator was right side up and back in its original place thanks to Mitchell.

"She must have been pretty determined. You know to get the fridge turned over like that, I'm surprised you guys didn't realize it wasn't me sooner. I mean I've never gotten the fridge to move that much."

"Yeah, I suppose. But we thought you were pretty upset and when you've got an ice box trying to make you flat footed you don't focus on the details."

"I suppose not."

They were silent for a while; she knew she had more to say but was at a loss for words.

"You should probably get some rest," she managed at last. Mitchell shrugged.

"Annie, I," he started and fumbled. "Yeah, I should get some rest."

He turned without another word and Annie sat down at the table, absentmindedly playing with the handle of the only tea cup remaining.

There had been a lot more to her trip than she had told them in the hall. She had a lot of questions, and Catherine had been willing to answer as much as she knew. She had come away a little bit wiser, but still very confused. Annie had thought there were no easy answers when she was alive. Now when she looked back on her living years everything seemed so painfully clear; how she should have gone about everything, what to do, who to trust. Now that she was well, not alive, she felt truly lost, but strangely at peace sitting in this kitchen listening to the noises of the guys settling in upstairs.

An hour passed, George had fallen asleep, and however though she knew he was trying to stay quiet she could hear the floor boards give as Mitchell was restless in his room again. She was in his room without really realizing she had sent herself there; she really tried not go in to their rooms if she could help it. He turned around, and paused, surprised in his own controlled way to see her standing there.

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to – It's just I heard you walking around and my mind must have wandered. Haven't quite got that telepathy thing down pat yet you know…" She tried to shrug it off. "I'll just be going now-"

"Stay." It looked like the word surprised him as much as it did her. "I just – there's so much to-"

He straightened up with a new resolve. "Annie I'm sorry." His resolve faltered and shrunk to the floor beside his bed, placing his head and hands on his bended knees.

She knelt down to him and reached out to touch him lightly on the shoulder. It was one thing she could count on from Mitchell; he never shivered from her touch and it made her feel almost normal.

"Mitchell, why are you saying this? You've got nothing to be sorry about."

"Yes I do. I'm messing up your life – death – whatever this is. Maybe it is all we're doing, just playing house. Pretending. My interfering made you miss your door. For what? To play Holly Homemaker to Dracula and the Wolfman?" He lashed out slightly, pounding a fist to the floor.

She smiled a little. "Mitchell you haven't made me do anything. Everything that's happened in the last couple of weeks I've chosen to do and I should be thanking you for it."

"Thanking? Me?"

"Yes thanking you."

You still don't get it. I got to choose, really choose something for the first time in my, well, yeah my life. Every since I could be considered an adult my life had revolved around you-know-who. I didn't realize it, but I wasn't in control of my life. I hadn't really made a decision in years; my life was going the way he wanted it to down to the last second. For the first time I have the ability to make those decisions and that's what I did when that door appeared. I made my own decision. I knew that if I crossed that threshold I'd never have the chance to live my life in any way. For all I know it'd be done, over with, in that second. Knowing that if I walked through that door I'd leave this all behind frightened me more than anything and I couldn't do it.

It might not seem like much to you, but this is all I ever wanted. A home full of people I cared about and could watch over."

Mitchell was on his feet now, bang against the furniture in the dark.

"No, I should have left after I had recuperated and let you and George get on with your lives."

"Mitchell stop this!" She reached out, focusing all her concentration and grabbed at his sleeve; catching it in her fingers and keeping him at bay for a moment as the truth tumbled from her lips. "All I've ever wanted is just a simple life. A home of my own and people to watch over and protect. That's it, I just wanted people I loved to live for."

He dropped to his knees and had his arms around her one fluid motion. Her whole body tingled as he held her and she whispered, "As long as we're here, I have a chance at that."

"We all might have a chance at that." He whispered back as they settled to the floor again. He kept his arms around her and she settled in on his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I know it must sound rather boring to someone who's had a life like yours."

"Oh darlin'," Mitchell started and Annie found she couldn't help but smile. "You're forgettin' that I was walking around before your grandparents were a twinkle in someone's eye. A simple life is all I've ever wanted."

There was a real sincerity in his voice that put her at ease, but she couldn't help but question him. "Really? You? Mister livin' large, with all your exploits and adventures, your war stories, your-"

He stopped her at that, "You know how you survive a war?"

"No, but technically I don't think you do either." Again she couldn't help herself.

"Shut it you, I'm being serious." He scoffed, pausing for affect and she stayed quiet. "You survive a war by believing that there is someone out there who cares whether you make it back alive or not. Whether you know who that person is or not you have to believe that there is a reason you've gone through hell; that there is someone who will make it all disappear in an instant if you can just make it through another day. And when it comes down to the point where you're ready to give up, you keep going because that person is out there."

"And you had this person back then?" She could hardly believe it, but somewhere a memory was triggered of life and she could swear she almost felt… warm, relaxed and tired.

He leaned against her a little more, "I had an idea of her out there somewhere. She was always waiting for me to come home."

The feeling of calm and weight over her eyes was almost too much as she managed one last question, "Truly?"

"Yes darlin' truly," he said to the woman somehow asleep in his arms. "She was always there, with this great laugh and smile that would blind ya' and take away your worries. She was the reason I'd get up and keep going, and even if I knew better, she'd be the reason I'd keep coming back."

He knew he had been right all along, she could sleep and he wouldn't dare wake her now so he just leaned back on the edge of the bed and linked his hands around her and smiled as her cool presence filled him more completely than anything he had ever experienced. His lips tingled as he laid a kiss on her hair that felt like a frosty cloud.

He chuckled to himself as her cold presence slowly began to warm him.

"Though I never realized there'd be so many cups of tea."

**Please review... please, please, please. If you do I promise I'll never make you another cup of tea again.**


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